


campaign of charm

by spilled_notes



Category: Holby City
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: Bernie doesn't go to Ukraine, in the end, but still insists that Serena needs time to work out what she wants. Serena already knows what she wants - but how to make Bernie see this without scaring her off?





	campaign of charm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Bernie doesn’t go to Kiev but she pulls the brakes on her relationship with Serena, thinking Serena doesn’t really know what she wants. Things get tense and then Robbie comes back. (Whether Serena sleeps with him or not would be up to you.) And when Serena tells him there’s someone else… Bernie overhears it.

Bernie doesn’t go to Ukraine, in the end. Gets as far as her car, rests her head against the steering wheel and calls herself a coward, gets back out and practically runs to Hanssen’s office to tell him she’s changed her mind. He asks her if she’s sure, reminds her again what an excellent opportunity this would be, how well it would suit her. She thinks of Serena and tells him that yes, she is.

She drives to Serena’s via the expensive Italian deli, stands sheepishly on her doorstep with a bottle of Shiraz as a peace offering, not even sure if Serena will let her in.

She does, and they talk over bowls of pasta, and _this certainly isn’t how I imagined the evening going,_ Serena thinks.

Because it doesn’t matter how many times she says it, how many different ways. They all boil down to, ‘you, I want you,’ but Bernie isn’t listening. And after today Serena isn’t going to push.

_I came this close to losing her. I can be patient._

So she is. She tells Bernie what Bernie wants to hear, what Bernie’s ready to hear: we’ll go back to how we were, and I’ll work out what I want.

They don’t go back to how they were. It’s like after their first kiss only worse because _I went and put my foot in it and mentioned love_. Bernie is tense, distant, jittery. The rumours and rhymes flying around hardly help matters, and Serena snarls and snaps at anyone she hears repeating them.

She told Bernie she would think about it, and she does. Thinks about it all the time, in fact. Without the pressure of Bernie’s potential imminent departure, with no more trauma or emotion than what they deal with every day, it becomes increasingly apparent that Bernie is exactly what she wants. Bernie in her kitchen, in her bed, as her partner, her lover, her next of kin, her everything. But telling Bernie this after only a week clearly isn’t an option.

‘I love her,’ she tells Raf, after a frustrating day and too much wine.

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘The problem is, she won’t hear it. She’s convinced I don’t know my own mind, my own heart.’

‘Show her,’ he says simply. ‘Come on, Serena. You could charm the birds from the trees, surely a woman who clearly adores you isn’t beyond your powers.’

‘Raf,’ she says, only slurring slightly, ‘you’re right.’ She raises her glass, taps it against his and drains the last of her wine.

And so begins a campaign of charm. Every day she gets up a little earlier, takes a little extra care over her hair and make up, orders herself a few new blouses. Buys a coffee and something sweet for Bernie on her way in. Stands too close just to feel Bernie’s warmth, to feel her shiver when their arms brush. Winks at her from across the ward just to see her eyes widen. Sits pressed against her in Albie’s even when there’s plenty of space just to hear her breath hitch. Reaches across her in the scrub room, catches her eye in theatre and across the office. Invites her to assist with a splenic artery repair and then, apparently at the last minute, changes her mind and casually tells Bernie that she can lead. The surprise in Bernie’s eyes does funny things to her stomach, as does the little smile behind her mask when Serena says that yes, she’s sure. As does watching her take control, watching her in her element, working with their gloved fingers so close, working almost without the need for words.

They go for dinner again – Serena’s suggestion, this time, after another long day. Back to the Italian with an extensive wine list, to the dim lighting and little tables with checked tablecloths and flickering candles. She doesn’t even have to try to knock her foot against Bernie’s, would actually have to deliberately avoid it. She stares at Bernie openly here, away from prying eyes and disruptions, watches as some of the tension unfurls and Bernie’s shoulders drop and she starts to be able to hold Serena’s gaze for longer than a few seconds.

When they say goodnight Serena catches at Bernie’s hand, presses a soft kiss to her cheek. Resists the temptation to kiss lips stained slightly with wine, to taste the mix of Shiraz and lasagna and tiramisu on her tongue.

It’s better, after this. Serena starts to feel Bernie’s eyes on her back, starts to find she’s the one looking up to catch Bernie’s gaze rather than the other way round. Starts to find Bernie standing a little too close to her, Bernie’s fingers brushing hers when they pass files or scans, Bernie’s eyes blazing at her across open bodies and pooling blood.

The next time they have dinner ( _a date by any other name_ ) they share a dessert. Serena licks her spoon clean with a little too much enjoyment, wonders if she’s pushed too far but is then treated to Bernie doing exactly the same, dark eyes fixed on Serena’s as a tiny moan escapes her throat, and Serena feels desire pool hot in her belly. When they say goodnight the corners of their lips touch.

The next day Bernie’s eyes are wide and fearful under her fringe. But Serena just smiles, squeezes her shoulder when they pass at the nurses station, carries on as if nothing has changed. Carries on swanning and standing too close and shooting teasing looks at her, until Bernie starts to relax again.

_I want you,_ she wants to say. _I’m filled with want for you._

And then Robbie appears, swaggers onto the ward like there’s any way she could still be interested after what he said about Jason. Only when it turns out he might have cancer she can’t _not_ care, just a little bit. She can feel Bernie’s eyes boring into her from across the ward, blazing with jealousy every time she talks to him. Can see her glaring murder at Robbie every time he so much as looks at her.

Once he’s in the clear he has the temerity to tell her he still loves her, to try and kiss her. She doesn’t see Bernie freeze when she’s passing the door to his room, doesn’t realise she’s there when she tells him very firmly that she’s not interested.

‘Playing hard to get, Serena?’ he teases.

‘There’s someone else, Robbie. Someone I’m very much in love with.’

And then she hears the sharp intake of breath, looks up to see the back of Bernie’s scrubs disappearing from view.

_Bugger_ , she thinks, jumping up and hurrying from the room. _Bugger, bugger, bugger._

Bernie’s nowhere to be seen.

‘Serena?’ Robbie calls, but she ignores him.

She doesn’t want to make a scene, not again. Walks swiftly but calmly to their office, checks she’s not hiding in a corner. Catches Raf’s eye across the ward, inclines her head towards the door and, when he nods, quietly slips out.

She’s on the roof, staring across the city, hair whipping around her face. Serena approaches cautiously, stands beside her with just a little space between them.

‘You love me,’ she says quietly, the wind almost stealing her words.

‘Yes.’

‘You sound very sure.’

‘I am.’

‘But you didn’t tell me.’

‘Can you blame me?’

Bernie glances at her, then looks away again. ‘I’ve really messed this up, haven’t I?’

‘No,’ Serena says softly, moving closer and taking Bernie’s hand. ‘I was waiting until I thought you might be ready to hear it.’

‘I was convinced I was going to lose you today,’ Bernie says, still not looking at her. ‘I was – god, Serena I was so jealous.’

‘I know,’ Serena smiles. ‘You haven’t exactly been hiding it. Does this, uh– does this mean you know what _you_ want?’

‘Yes.’

Bernie turns to face her, reaches for her other hand.

‘I want you, Serena. You’re all I can think about.’

‘Likewise.’

‘And I’m terrified I’ll ruin everything and lose my best friend.’

‘Why don’t we have dinner,’ Serena suggests, ‘and talk, and take it from there?’

‘Ok,’ Bernie says, but Serena can see a hint of disappointment in her eyes.

‘Or,’ she breathes, shifting closer so Bernie can hear her over the wind.

‘Or?’ Bernie prompts.

‘Or,’ Serena repeats, this time with her lips against Bernie’s.

And then Bernie is kissing her, soft and warm and tender. No desperation, this time. Need and want, yes, but not desperation.

‘Not going to bolt on me again, are you?’ Serena murmurs, sliding her hands into Bernie’s hair.

‘No,’ Bernie promises.

‘Jolly good,’ Serena sighs, and then shivers. ‘Do you think we could go back inside now?’

‘In a minute,’ Bernie says, wrapping her arms around Serena and holding her close, kissing her with a little more vigour and smiling as Serena eagerly reciprocates.


End file.
